Braun grunted no and left the room. There was only one call that he was anxious to receive. He couldn’t understand why it was taking Gwen Braun so long to accept his generous offer. He would give it a little more time and then call her himself.
***
When Meacham pulled up, Portnoy’s car was in the driveway with the trunk open. As he approached the house, Portnoy was coming out with a duffel bag. Steeling himself, Portnoy pushed by Meacham without saying a word, determined not to be intimidated.
“Decided to take a trip all of a sudden, Seymour? You didn’t mention it yesterday that you might be leaving town. Is that what Braun instructed you to do?
Portnoy froze in his tracks and Meacham detected real panic in his eyes, like he had seen in Burt Grimsley just a few days earlier. “Is there some special law in Parlor City, detective, that says a citizen must inform the police when leaving town? Yeah, I’m going to visit my wife tomorrow and thought I’d pack up the car today for an early start in the morning. Is that okay?”
“Oh, you’re free to travel – for now, Seymour, and you don’t need anyone’s permission. But it is not smart to lie to the police because that makes us naturally suspicious” Meacham said pleasantly.
“Wha -?” stammered Portnoy but Meacham cut him off. “Let’s cut the bullshit. Braun was here yesterday right before I arrived and then you paid him a return visit a few hours ago. Now is this a person that you haven’t seen, that you hardly knew but who takes the time to see you twice in two days? What’s up Seymour?”
Meacham let this information sink in before continuing. “Don’t you see what’s happening here, Seymour? You’ll be the fall guy and some fat cats who think they are smarter and better than you are going to skate free. Are you really going to be their patsy?”
Portnoy finally dropped the duffel bag. Clearly, the police were watching Braun and would see him there in the morning picking up the money. Somehow, the original cash payment from Braun had been revealed but by whom? Had Wattle set him up? He was desperate for cash but how long would the additional $3000 last him? Braun was volatile and made him nervous but the thought of jail sent waves of fear through his body. His head was swimming but he had enough presence of mind to buy himself some time when he said to Meacham, “Can we talk later today, detective. I will come down to the station.”
Meacham agreed and they shook hands. Before driving away, he watched Portnoy carry the duffel bag back into the house.
***
The ladies had left and Mrs. Braun found her husband in the next room, massaging his cheeks and brooding about the day’s events. She had determined that the next time they were alone she would speak her mind and, given his incessant ill-humor, decided that now was as good a time as any.
“You should do something for the boy, Woodrow, regardless of what she decides. Don’t make him the victim of your obsessive need to control everything and everyone. You won’t have another grandson to pass on the Braun name. Do you want to embitter him toward you for the rest of his life? Is that the legacy you want to leave behind?”
Braun stared at his wife and glowered, wondering how she had mustered the courage to lecture him. When he said nothing, she turned to leave the room but then stopped and said “You probably can’t envision what it will be like in your dotage when you have nothing and the bitterness takes full control of your life. And it probably doesn’t matter to you in the least but I will say it nonetheless. If you proceed with your plan to disinherit little Woody unless his Mother acquiesces to your master plan, I will never forgive you.”
Braun acknowledged to himself after she left the room that it had been many years since he cared what his wife felt or thought. He wasn’t a man that acquiesced to others but felt that he had been constantly making concessions of late – first with the funeral arrangements for his son, then deferring to Wattle and lately with Portnoy shaking him down for more cash. And now, was he to yield to his wife or anyone else on something so vitally important to him? What was he to gain? He had a vacuous relationship with his wife that was irredeemable and now, if he backed down, she would have a triumph to hold over him. What did he care about forgiveness? All he yearned for was the miraculous return of his son and the continuation of the Braun legacy. Since the first would require intervention by the almighty, he was determined to have iron-fisted control of his progeny. No, he didn’t see any advantage in compromising his demands.
***
Meacham was in with the Chief describing his latest confrontation with Portnoy when a call was put through to him. “Yes, Seymour, get here as soon as you can. I’m sure we can work something out.” Meacham hung up the phone and smiled at the Chief. It looks like he wants to make a deal. What can we do?”
***
Portnoy looked like a new man when he showed up at the station, perhaps thinking that he could win some style points by cleaning up his appearance. He had shaved and had somehow found a neatly-pressed shirt and pants ensemble to wear. Meacham suppressed a smile when he walked him into the Chief’s office.
After Portnoy’s call to Meacham, the Chief had spoken with the DA’s office and received guidance to the effect that things would “go easy” on the ex-Councilman if he provided value information that could be corroborated. Any formal offer would have to come later.
After Meacham left his house, Portnoy had thought about his options. He wasn’t the kind of man who could survive on the lam and the thought of prison terrified him. Braun would have to give him enough money to flee the country and live comfortably for years. That possibility wasn’t remotely feasible.
When he sat down in the Chief’s office, Portnoy listened to the DA’s offer, nodded his head and started to talk as if he was reading from Stanley Ward’s diary.
“If I hadn’t been so stupid as to deposit the $2500 all at once, guess I wouldn’t be sitting here right now, would I?” Neither the Chief nor Meacham responded but merely shrugged their shoulders.
“So tell us about the two meetings with Braun, Seymour. We need to hear all the details and then get a written statement”, explained Meacham.
Portnoy described the first meeting as a “pep talk” until the very end when Braun made a veiled threat about what happened to people who renege on deals. “But then you went to see him today, why?” asked the Chief. At this point, Portnoy smiled and told them about the additional $3000 pay-off he was to pick up from Braun in the morning.
The Chief and Meacham huddled in the corner of the room where they spoke in low tones while Portnoy looked on, straining unsuccessfully to pick up their conversation.
“You will proceed as planned, Seymour, and we will be nearby to watch”, said the Chief, adding “If you pull this off flawlessly, I can promise you that you will have bought additional good will with the DA.”
“I’m pretty sure Braun will make it easy for you guys, said Portnoy. “ He doesn’t want me in his house so whatever happens, it will most likely be in the driveway.” Meacham glanced at the Chief with a puzzled look but said nothing.
Meacham walked Portnoy to the door and patted him on the back. To be safe, he would have a patrol car visible to Portnoy at all times just in case he received a call from Braun and got weak-kneed at the last minute.
Meacham went back into the Chief’s office to ask him if he knew what Portnoy meant about meeting Braun outside. “Sure, Billy. Braun will do business with Portnoy but he would never let a Jew in his house. It’s just that simple.”
***
Gwen walked in from work and the phone was ringing. “No, we are not interested. You have not been a part of our lives since Tommy disappeared and you are not buying your way in now.” Gwen said emphatically. She heard nothing in response except the slamming of the phone into the receiver on the other end.
She shuddered as she walked away only to hear the phone ring again. Gwen was reluctant to answer, fearing a torrent of abuse from her son’s grandfather. But if another forceful response was required to drive him away once
and for all, she was prepared. She slowly picked up the phone and held it away from her ear, expecting a verbal onslaught when she heard “Gwen, is that you? It’s Rev. Carmichael.” Exhaling with relief, she told him he certainly could stop by. What a contrast, she thought after hanging up the phone and letting out a deep sigh. One grating and hostile voice followed within seconds by a soothing and friendly one.
She could hear Woody upstairs and smiled. Very soon, she hoped, all their recent turmoil could be put to rest.
***
Woody was in is room when he heard the front door open. He tip-toed to the stairwell and looked down to see his Mother greeting Rev. Carmichael. They clutched hands and moved out of his view.
Woody removed his sneakers and crept half way down the stairs until he could hear the voices clearly. He sat down with both hands on his chin with a sense of foreboding.
He heard the minister speak first. “I’ve some especially good news that I want to share with you, Gwen. Yesterday, I was formally asked to succeed to a new pastoral position in Boston and must either accept or reject it by the end of this week. I am told it is quite an honor for someone at my age.” The minister paused and looked hopefully at Gwen, who after a short pause said, “That’s wonderful news and most deserved, I am quite certain. Have you decided what to do?”
Woody was straining to hear every word when the minister said “I would accept the offer today without reservation, Gwen, if there was a chance that you would join me as my partner. It would be a new beginning for both of us and I might add that it is my belief that it is God’s will that has put this opportunity before me – and you.”
Woody stood up and was tempted to race down the stairs in protest when he heard his Mother’s voice and sat back down. “You do me a great honor, reverend, and I have immense respect for you but we could never leave Parlor City – Woody and me, that is.” Gwen, feeling awkward and still recovering from the shock of being referred to as a “partner”, could think of nothing else to say. She suddenly saw the minister in an entirely different light. Gone was the confident, soaring rhetoric of the pulpit that had put him on a pedestal. Here instead was a bumbling creature who was timid and insecure. And she started to feel resentment about how he had possibly used his ministerial role and authority during her bereavement to advance his personal goals. Could he be that calculating, she asked herself?
“Perhaps, if I stayed in Parlor City longer, your feelings might change?” the minister asked meekly. Gwen knew that now was the moment to be decisive. “It’s not just that I am not cut out to be a minister’s wife – although that responsibility would cause me great concern – but more importantly, you need to understand that my feelings toward you are, and always will be, those of a dear friend. You have also been a spiritual advisor, a comfort to me when I was in need. For that, I will always be grateful.”
The minister was not particularly happy at this moment to be praised for the very qualities that seemed to thwart his romantic aspirations. He wondered if he had overplayed the spiritual angle and should have displayed some manly passion instead, as if he could have conjured it up on the spur of the moment. Suppressing his frustration, he tried to sound benevolent yet more passionate when he said, “I don’t suppose I expressed my true feelings for you with sufficient ardor, Gwen, but apparently that would make no difference. I must confess that I’m more than a little naïve when it comes to courting.”
Gwen was now embarrassed for him but chose to say nothing further. How could she tell him, without making the situation worse, that more practice at love-making would be fruitless? Finally, the minister stood up and Woody watched as he heard them moving toward the front door. Just then, Pokey was at the bottom of the stairs gazing up at his master. He started to bark and wag his tail which caught the attention of the minister and Gwen who looked up to see a mortified Woody scampering up the stairs.
What they couldn’t see was the broad grin spreading across his face.
***
When he left the station, Meacham’s thoughts reverted to Gwen Braun. Those few, tender moments at her house, with Woody looking in the window from the yard, were electrifying even if nothing had been said. In his mind, he wanted to believe that they confirmed their mutually strong feeling for each other. At the same time, he felt that he had an ideal opportunity to verbalize his feelings but had inexplicably let the moment pass. And then he had made matters worse by his immature effort to bolster his position with Gwen through Angie. “What a high school move!” he said to himself in disgust.
Not wanting to be alone, he knew he could drop by his Mother’s house without an invitation. He would find solace there.
***
Meacham was moody and mostly silent as he sat across from his Mother at the dining room table. “How much longer are you going to push those mashed potatoes around the plate, darling, before you tell me what’s bothering you?” she finally asked in a voice that, with its loving concern, broke through to Meacham. “Something tells me it has to do with a girl” she added with a smile.
“I might have waited too long, Mom, and its tearing me up right now,” said Meacham, finally looking up and meeting his Mother’s eyes.
“Sounds like she’s worth fighting for if you feel this way. I know it can’t be that buxom redhead that’s got you all bothered.” The reference to Big Red caught Meacham off guard and made him laugh in spite of himself.
“No, Mom, it’s a woman you would want me to bring over for Sunday dinner. It’s Gwen Braun.”
“So, who’s your competition, darling? I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle. And does she know how you feel?”
“Here’s the tricky part, Mom. How do you fight back fairly against a minister? Rev. Carmichael and her seem to have gotten particularly close since it was discovered that the dead hobo was Tommy Braun. You’ve heard the minister in church – he’s a pretty persuasive guy.”
“Pshaw” replied Mrs. Meacham sharply. “All’s fair in love and war, my boy. He may be God’s representative on earth but outside of church he’s just another man trying to make it in life. He won’t be cutting you any slack because you’re a cop. I guess you can’t carry her off Gretna Green fashion. Those days are long gone but you can still take bold action. The worst thing you could do is to leave her in doubt as to your feelings. If your Father was still alive, he’d be telling you the same darn thing with some salty language mixed in for seasoning. There, I’ve said my piece” Mrs. Meacham concluded forcefully. Her eyes had misted over at the thought of her late husband and she was dabbing them with the edge of her apron.
Meacham got up and walked over to his Mother, enveloping her in his arms as she turned toward him in her chair. He leaned down to kiss her forehead and whispered “She’ll know how I feel tomorrow, Mom.”
***
That night, Wattle answered the phone and said sweetly, “Hello, Millie dearest. How was your meeting?” His wife explained that their friend was not at home but was expected later. She would be at his doorstep first thing in the morning. Wattle frowned but kept his voice calm and reassuring. “Braun is on the verge of a breakdown, my dear, and my contact in the police department informs me Seymour Portnoy stopped by today and spent time with the Chief and Det. Meacham. If things go well, Braun and Portnoy will self-destruct and drag each other down. We just don’t want Neidermeyer to join them and make our lives more difficult.
Mrs. Wattle assured her husband that he would get the message that “silence is golden” and that the alternative would be unpleasant.
***
After a silent dinner, the Brauns retreated to separate rooms for the remainder of the evening. Looking ahead, Braun had decided to confront Gwen Braun in person the next day after disposing of Portnoy. His wife had failed to soften her up after the funeral and his afternoon call, while ineffective, had shielded her from the brute force of his influence. He had convinced himself, fortified by several cocktails, that she would be unable to resist his demands when he
confronted her face to face.
Before retiring for the evening, Braun checked in on his wife who was reading in bed. He had calculated that a softer tone would make the next few days more tolerable. “I will finish up my meetings tomorrow so we can fly home on Saturday morning at the very latest. I thought you’d like to know now so you can prepare for our departure. Good night, dear,” he said through clenched teeth.
Mrs. Braun did not respond but was now certain that her husband would follow his own obsessive path for resurrecting their son by trying to control the future of Woody Braun.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Thursday, July 28, 1955
Meacham was at the coffee shop early, nursing his cup of joe and musing, not only about the sage reminder from his Mother the night before but also about the uncertain day that lay ahead. He felt a presence next to him and glanced to his side to see Rev. Carmichael sitting two stools away. Smiles were exchanged but to Meacham the minister didn’t have that buoyant, vibrant air that was so characteristic of him.
Meacham finished his breakfast and polished off the last of his coffee before tossing a tip on the counter and grabbing his check. As he headed to the cashier, the minister reached out his arm to block Meacham’s path and said softly, “Do you have a minute, Detective?”, motioning to the stool next to him.
After a short, uncomfortable pause, the minister began in a halting way. “We don’t know each other very well, detective, but I have heard good things about you.”
“Thank you, Reverend, and I might say the same about you. Maybe some of the old-timers wouldn’t agree that it’s a good thing but there are more young people in church now than any time in my memory. And unless I have to bring you in for questioning, I’d prefer that you call me Billy”, Meacham said with a chuckle.
“That’s fair – if you agree to drop the reverend label and call me Alex – accept in church, that is!” said the minister with a warm smile as he stuck out his hand. Meacham took it and grasped it firmly, surprised by the strength that he felt in the minister’s grip.
The Parlor City Boys Page 26